Paxil Free

Sunday, October 8th, 2000.

Today’s my 32nd day of weaning. Still levelled off at 10mg.

Two days ago I was feeling like a zombie. But since then, things have been different. The next day, just before I went to bed, I began to feel better. And all day today I’ve been feeling almost normal. (It feels almost abnormal to feel normal again. Weird.)

About an hour ago I began to feel a bit of a headache, and that’s the only possible symptom of withdrawal I’ve experienced today. I haven’t felt dizzy or off balance or any of the usual things. I think the withdrawal is still happening, but it’s amazing how when you’ve experienced the worst of it (i.e., cold turkey withdrawal), the degree of the withdrawal can be measured down to the slightest fraction. Anyone notice that? If cold turkey withdrawal (namely the brain zaps) is a 10 in severity, then what I’ve experienced today is a 1, maybe a 2. It’s what we who have lived through this junk call a Good Day.

In terms of my diet and exercise and the usual things I do to keep the electrical surges at bay, I haven’t done anything different in the past two days. Perhaps it was just my body and brain finally adjusting to the 10mg level.

But I have another theory. It’s more of a curiosity, I suppose. Not much of a theory, but it’s something I’ve noticed a few times since I began the weaning process. Until now I just didn’t think it was plausible. But who knows. This is what happened:

The night before last, I wrote a short letter to a friend of mine. It was a calm, quiet letter, short but well written. And here’s the thing: I felt good about it. Understand now that writing is the one activity I get more fulfillment from than any other. So even a short letter like this after two weeks of not being able to write a coherent word (Swiss Cheese Brain Syndrome I heard someone say) — it felt good. It was a small thing, but it felt like I’d actually done something. The first time in weeks I didn’t feel so useless.

The satisfaction from having done something with a bit of purpose seemed to lift my spirits in a subtle sort of way. I just… felt better.

Then I go to bed and this morning I wake up, and immediately before I even have breakfast or take my Paxil, I feel like writing about something. So I sit down and write about it… until lunch time. Normally, I’d be weak and fatigued from going this long without eating. But I sat there slowly writing without noticing the time or even if I was hungry. I’ve had to take a small dose of Xanax in the morning for the past week because of the withdrawal I’ve been experiencing. But this morning I didn’t have to (today’s the first day since I’ve had the Xanax that I haven’t had to take any).

So I woke up this morning and managed to do something which I found fulfilling. And having done some writing, I felt better again. But what I mean by that is that my energy level went up. My neurotransmitters started transmitting on just the right frequency or whatever you want to call it — but I felt good. The severity of my withdrawal was significantly decreased.

And if something can decrease the severity of Paxil withdrawal, even if it’s a bit of a stretch, it’s worth mentioning. I’ve noticed it before but didn’t say anything because I thought it was just coincidence. But I’m not so sure if it is.

A few weeks ago I had a moment of clarity where I was able to write a few excellent paragraphs, and the satisfaction of that feeling immediately cleared my head of the usual heavy-headedness of the withdrawal. There was also another occasion when I was told good news about someone close to me, and on hearing that good news, within seconds of hearing it, for an hour or so afterwards most of my withdrawal symptoms became a hell of a lot easier to bear. They were still there but with much less intensity.

I read in Oliver Sacks’s book Awakenings of Parkinsonian patients whose symptoms did not progress in severity as long as they had support of their family, something to look forward to, relationships and experiences of some kind that provided them with a sense of personal fulfillment and meaning. Take away these relationships and the feeling of fulfillment these experiences provide, and the patient would immediately fall back into severe Parkinsonian tremors.

I believe that perhaps I have experienced something akin to this. Sacks speaks of the power of a compassionate human touch to bring a patient out of the painful physicality of their disease. There is no medical explanation for it. But it’s as if the disturbances in the brain, at least temporarily, cease to exist, marking a profound change in, I suppose, the quality of consciousness.

There have been times since my initial withdrawal experience in July when I have clearly experienced an immediate and beneficial neurochemical change due to something happening to me psychologically. Medical doctors don’t like hearing this kind of thing (and those jerks at GlaxoSmithKline would probably take this as evidence that it was “all in my head” in the first place), but I can think of several occasions in which I would normally have had to take a Xanax to feel such an alleviation of my Paxil withdrawal. Instead, I experienced something spiritual, if you want to call it that, that made me feel good, and the withdrawal effects became less intense.

In the black cloud of Paxil withdrawal, there are these little rays of sunshine and warmth to be had. You just have to put yourself in the way of them I think. It’s just a theory, but there it is.

P.S., It’s very possible I’m losing track of the days. I say it’s day 32 of my weaning off Paxil, but I might be off plus or minus one day.